Feels Like Rain
by Marie Vulffe
Summary: As if of their own volition, his eyes found the Waterbender in the throng of dancers once more, and something in the air changed, like the charge of energy before a storm. 'She looks different.' - collection of oneshots; varying themes and times. Zutara.
1. Between Constellations and Dreams

**FEELS LIKE RAIN  
An A:TLA One-shot Series  
**

**A/N edit: **So I've decided to just turn this particular post into a series of one-shots. I WILL be posting 'Becoming the Bull' sometime within the next week or two, but i've just got so much random junk lying around, that i thought maybe i'd share it with everyone else to enjoy in the meantime.

Some (most) will be from the the upcoming fic; teasers, if you will. But there will also be several totally random scenes that spawned in the wee hours of the morning that i was totally helpless against. A few of these will be normal AUs, and some will be modern-day AUs. Action, angst, flufftastic shipping out the wazoo, you name it. I'll have a little scenario set up before each piece, for you to better understand what's happened up until that point. That way you won't be totally lost. Heh.

On with the show!

* * *

_FYI:_ Takes place a few weeks after FBM. After much deliberation and heartache, Katara has left the Gaang, in order to further pursue her Bloodbending training. Iroh discovered them just a few scant days before this decision was made, and so it is left to Zuko, their other resident Fire Nation expert, to keep her safe on the journey to Hama's village.

During the course of the trip into the heart of the Fire Nation, they stop at one small village that lies just beyond the coast of the mainland; Vei Hong. It is there that they discover that some of the old traditions are still kept alive, one in particular being dancing...

**BETWEEN CONSTELLATIONS AND DREAMS  
**

_A waltz when she walks in the room;  
she blows back the hair from her face.  
She turns to the window to sway in the moonlight;  
even her shadow has grace...  
_

She moved like a storm on the sea, push and pull, rise and fall. Dusky, slender arms turned to glowing bronze in the light of the bonfire as she trailed them above her, weaving with the rest of her body. Wiry, strong feet kicked up dust, the motes dancing around her legs like glittering smoke. He lost sight of her for a moment as the dancers continued to dart in and out of the firelight, then there she was again, a light sheen of sweat covering her brow and collarbone. Her unbound hair had a life of its own, sweeping across her face as she spun around, only to ripple and twist behind her, like an opened fan across her bare shoulders and back. He was too far away to see the details of her eyes, but when she would turn, he imagined he could make out the spark that burned there. And that dress..._damn_ the flowershop girl for lending it to her. The cream-colored material clung in soft, crinkling folds to her torso and hips, the capped sleeves pulled down her arms to leave her shoulders bare. As she twisted and leapt backwards, arms swinging around her, the hem did its own pirouette around her shockingly tan thighs, skimming across the tops of them as the girl came back down to earth.

It was far too short for her, who he was so used to seeing in concealing leggings and a long tunic. She was too practical for an outfit of that...that..._brevity._ The Agni-cursed thing left her entire top half uncovered! Well, not the entire top...but from her shoulders down to the swelling curves of her breasts there was nothing but glowing, bare skin. A hint of bosom at the top of the dress was all it took to have every male ranging from old windbag to spotty adolescent ogling her. It certainly had his attention. (And where, he would dearly love to know, had she learned to dance like _that?_)

Why am I even thinking about this? She isn't my sister; I shouldn't be worried how many eyes are on her (not that he worried about said sister in the first place). I don't need to be thinking about her in that thrice-cursed (blessed?) dress, or that everyone else is thinking about her out of it -

That was enough for him. He tore his eyes away from the swaying hips and stamping feet, away from the levity of the dancers and the fire that moved them. He made himself focus on his leg, the one that was propped out in front of him; it was still supposed to be broken, but she had healed for him only a few hours ago -

And there he went again. He wasn't supposed to be thinking of her. He settled himself back against the trunk of the tree, then picked up his discarded knife and set to the small piece of clay in his hand with a savagery that nearly broke the fragile disk in two. Slowly, swirls and spirals appeared, almost as if the music were being transferred in the stone. Stabs of flame, whorls of dust and waves of water broke across the surface of the clay. Don't think, just do. But his mind couldn't focus for long; neither would his eyes. He felt himself being pulled back into the firelight, into the rippling rhythm of the dancers before him. One dancer. She moved to her own music, it seemed, sometimes almost out of time with the others. Certainly her moves weren't like the other girls'. Theirs were coy and submissive, made to draw the eyes of suitors. Hers were fierce, almost savage, as if she listened to a different set of musicians altogether. The roar of the ocean, maybe, or the thundering of rain. But despite this, or perhaps because of it, all eyes were on the wild-eyed girl that moved in the center of the pinwheel like a typhoon.

The music was changing, he suddenly noticed. Becoming harsher, deeper, faster. Because of her, he didn't doubt. Wherever she went, the Waterbender inspired change. (He was living proof, wasn't he?) The other girls stumbled a bit, losing the beat, but then, as if a key had been turned, they, too, became waves. Pushing, pulling, over and under. Leaping and ducking, as if fire were hot on their heels. But still his eyes followed the one at the center of the maelstrom, the one closest to the flames that lit her hair to fire and turned her skin into dusty gold. He watched, the carving in his hands forgotten.

No, he decided. Not quite the ocean. More like a firestorm. An unchecked force of nature that leapt and grabbed, darted and wove through the hearts of men. Fire can be so like water, in the push and pull, the breaking down of the elements before it, the hunger, the potential for destruction if left to itself. She dances like fire.

Slowly, quietly, something passed through him, sinking deep inside his bones and turning them to jelly. His palms were suddenly sweaty, and he blinked, swiping at the moisture that dripped into his eyes. He felt the change, and wondered what it was. Then, just as softly as it had snuck up on him, the feeling passed, and he was left with the nagging thought that there was something he was missing. As if of their own volition, his eyes found the Waterbender in the throng of dancers once more, and something in the air changed, like the charge of energy before a storm. _She looks different._ He took a deep, steadying breath, and leaned back against the tree once more, following every step, every twist and bend and fall that her body made against the firelight.

_Someday_, the thought found him. His fingers absently smoothed over the half-formed design in his hand, barely registering the heat that seemed to come off it. _Someday, i'm going to dance with her._

Then he glanced down at the piece of clay, at the abstract design he had carved into it, and blinked. If you looked at it just right, angled it a little this way, and squinted, it looked...it looked almost like...

His calloused fingers closed over the piece abruptly, thinking to melt it. But he didn't. He held it in his fist, knuckles white, and looked back up at the water girl that danced like fire.

_Someday._

_A waltz for the chance I should take,  
but how will I know where to start?  
She's spinning between constellations and dreams;  
her rhythm is my beating heart._

* * *

Song is "So She Dances," which is (c) Josh Groban.


	2. Cruel To Be Kind

**A/N edit:** Another clip from "Becoming the Bull," from the first chapter. Enjoy!

Also: please, pleasepleasePLEASE let me know if you encounter errors of any kind, be they of the grammatic (um?) or canonical (what?) kind.

Yeah. I think I just made those words up.

* * *

_FYI:_ Set a couple of weeks after FBM. The Gaang had decided that they can't linger at the Air Temple for too much longer, so Katara and Toph head out to a nearby village for supplies...and maybe, just maybe a little scamming. But they've got to get there in one piece, first.

**CRUEL TO BE KIND**

_Cruel to be kind; it means that I love you.  
_

Why was it that whenever it was Toph opposing her, it was Zuko who she always wound up arguing with? No matter how insignificant the subject, whether it was gathering firewood or planning Aang's next three-way battle session or how to keep Sokka's snores to a minimum, the two teenagers ended up butting heads and exchanging blows. While the exercise was certainly stimulating, sometimes she just wished Sparky would be the bigger person for once and keep his mouth shut. Why was she always the one counted on to be the most mature of the group? She automatically dismissed Zuko's repeated attempts at reconciliation, apologies, or even a five-minute truce, choosing to instead fume at the injustice in a universe that decided sticking two opposing elements in such close quarters would be a good laugh. A part of her realized that she was starting to sound like her brother used to, and still sometimes did. Would you like some cheese to go with that whine? Ugh. She scrubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands, sighing raggedly.

She supposed she had bigger problems to worry over, wish as she might otherwise. Trying - or not - to get along with the testy firebender was not on the top of her priority list, though she felt for some reason that it should be. She had recently started to notice how resigned Aang looked after breaking up yet another shouting match between his two teachers. It had hit her that just maybe, he felt responsible. But it wasn't his problem, was it? They could take care of themselves...besides, it wasn't like he could just click his heels and use some spiffy Avatar power to suddenly make Katara and Zuko get along.

She'd actually softened towards the former Prince, if only infinitesimally. _She_ knew she had, at least. They others hadn't really picked up on it, but it was actually kind of tiring, hating someone twenty-four seven. You start losing sleep over it, then you notice your hair starts looking like it hasn't been brushed in a month due to constant nervous/exasperated/aggravated/what-have-you gestures. Then comes the awkward silences at meals whenever one of you suddenly becomes the center of attention, that become more and more frequent and more and more awkward as time goes by. Sideways glances and pursed lips follow, disapproval evident in your other companions' expressions and tones. They start avoiding certain subjects with you, and next thing you know they're just avoiding _you_. She was starting to hate hating Zuko, which for some reason made her lash out at him even more, which started the whole vicious cycle all over again.

Did she even really hate him? Resent him, yes, but she didn't like to think of why. But you just don't show up at your enemy's doorstep out of the blue and ask for forgiveness! So what if Appa liked him, and Aang looked up to him and Sokka respected him and Toph worshipped him? Shouldn't one of them give him a bit of a challenge to wake up to? So she told herself. The strain of it pulled at her, a victim of gravity and yes, the other would be guilt. Just a little of it. Just enough to make her step back and think about what she was doing, half the time. The other half was the one that was getting her into trouble. But she _liked _trouble. His kind, at least. It gave her an edge she had been sorely missing, making her realize in the process that she'd never really had it, not even when she was still learning to control her element. He challenged her in a way unlike the other benders. Aang was too playful, Toph was too impatient, and Haru just not up to her standards, frankly. But Zuko, he was just right.

They'd argued again, this morning, as per usual. He was more himself then, and better able to withstand her verbal barbs. He had been dead set against traveling to the nearest village, as had been planned a few days ago. She was pretty sure he was just worried about Toph, but he just hemmed and hawed and told her (Katara, not his best friend) to not get them all killed. She'd snorted (those were the times she wished she could breathe steam, like him), and told him in no uncertain terms just what she was going to do, and that he'd be a lot better off not interfering. Toph, still asleep, crankily informed them that if she even felt their _vibrations_ argue, she was going to bend them both off into the chasm and they could go have a tea party with Combustion Man.

So they backed off, Katara giving him a gimlet stare over the rim of her drinking cup, he methodically stuffing his face and ignoring her. He always took Toph's threats seriously, it seemed, and in turn she had him wrapped around her dirty little fingers. A strange pair, she'd decided, but not unlikely. She had grudgingly admitted (to herself only) that he seemed to be good for the younger girl. While she was still ignoring the fact that Toph seemed to have softened the boy considerably, she couldn't argue with the fact that they made a good team. Both talented, powerful benders (unfortunately; she intensely disliked using that phrase in regards to Zuko; only she and Aang knew why) that gave no quarter to the enemy (usually meaning herself) and never backed down from a fight. She just wished they wouldn't use her as target practice quite so much.

Grimacing, she bent down to dislodge more forest rubbish from her sandals; she and Toph were both back in rull Fire Nation regalia, and the strappy sandals she usually wore for the outfit were _not _ideal for traipsing around through jungles. She really should be focusing more on her current surroundings and on the task ahead, not the mess she had left behind her. They were headed towards Zei Sho, a coastal village that was only a few kilometers south of the Air Temple. Unfortunately, they couldn't use Appa to make the journey easier; he would surely be spotted, and that would be the end of their (relatively) quiet existence at the Western Air Temple. So they walked, she and the blind Earthbender, neither saying much. Toph simply wasn't one for small talk, and Katara was still brooding. She never used to be so introverted; usually she filled the air with inane chatter meant to distract and uplift her companions; a trait she unconciously shared with her older brother, though they went about it a little differently. But ever since the Prince had come into their lives (the I must restore balance!Zuko, not the I must restore my honor at any cost!Zuko), she had found herself changing quite unexpectedly, and not for the better.

Somewhat satisfied with her impromptu cleaning project, she stood back up, stretching until her shoulders and back popped. Ahead of her, Toph still plodded gamely on. The relentless Fire Nation sun found them through the jungle's ragged canopy, and beat down on her bare shoulders and back. Small rivulets of sweat had formed down the column of her throat, and she felt like her thighs would never recover from the chafing. Puffing out a sigh, she set down the trail again, pulling her hair back away from her neck to give herself some temporary relief. She didn't even have to concentrate in order to cool the moisture that beaded on her skin, and she smiled to herself, satisfied with the results. Letting her mane spill back through her fingers, she shook it out and jogged to catch up with Toph. "Need some cooling off?"

"Eh, I'm good. Besides, I'm not really looking for a bath right now." Katara just smirked and flicked a hand at the girl; Toph actually jumped a little when she felt the sweat that dotted her hairline drop in temperature. She whistled, despite herself. "Nice one, Sweetness, thanks. Hang onto that one."

She, too, had changed. Katara was sure that not even Toph realized it, but the defensive edge that had defined her words and guided her actions for so long had softened, if only a little. Just enough to say thanks when it was warranted, and accept help when it was given. Such was Zuko's influence.

Katara scowled, distracted again, even though the young man wasn't anywhere near her. Toph grinned to herself, recognizing the familiar cadence of her friend's heartbeat. Frustration, confusion, tension. All signs that she was thinking about Zuko. She did that a lot, though Toph was pretty sure Katara wasn't aware of it. Even when he wasn't anywhere to be found, the boy always found a way to stir the Waterbender's ire. Katara's tone would tighen, and lilt oddly, and her stance would firm every time Zuko was mentioned, even if it wasn't by name. Toph knew why Katara still distrusted him, and thought she was an idiot. She never brought it up, though. But things were escalating between the two, and the time would come when someone was going to get between them and probably get hurt. It kept Toph constantly on edge, though she was good at hiding it.

Zuko had told her, a while back when it was just the two of them catching a break in the stables, what had happened in the catacombs of Ba Sing Se. She knew his regret was real, but so was his determination to not let Katara make him relive it every single day. It was like the war had followed them, and become personified in two seperate, sentient beings. And it was making everyone miserable. She knew it was going to be up to her to say something, soon. But she wanted to wait and see if her two friends could somehow sort things out between themselves, by themselves. She didn't like have to play peacemaker; that used to be Katara's job. Now, it came down to Aang. It made her wonder why he hadn't spoken to them about it yet. She was fully aware of his feelings for his Waterbending teacher, and it made her wonder what Katara thought about it, if she did at all.

Normally the Earthbender's train of thought veered away from this line of thinking, as she was adamantly opposed to anything soft and squishy-feeling, but these were her best friends, and they needed to get things straightened, to clear the air between them. They were making everyone suffer for their petty rivalry, and it was really starting to piss her off. She snorted to herself, blowing her bangs out of her sightless eyes. Maybe she should say something. Now was the perfect opportunity. No one to interrupt, no one to overhear. Not that she really cared about that, but Katara would, and she'd be spitting mad at other people sticking their noses in her business. She didn't seem to realize that it _was_ everyone's business.

So she felt for her friend's vibrations; they had settled down some, and her breathing and pace were even. She wasn't going to get a better opportunity than this. "So why are you still picking on Sparky, anyway?"

Katara's pulse skyrocketed. Toph felt herself grin, but knew the other girl wouldn't see it beneath her hair. "Seriously, you've got everyone walking on eggshells these days. You've had more than enough time to make nice, so why haven't you?"

Katara sputtered for a minute before finding her voice. "Look, Toph, that's between Zuko and me. It's no one else's business who I like and dislike, okay?" And she stomped on ahead of Toph, hoping she would get the message through her heavy footfalls.

"It's no secret who you like and dislike...for the most part, anyway. Why haven't you talked to Twinkles about it yet, either? I'm sure he's getting pretty impatient. It took a lot of guts to kiss you, and you shouldn't leave him hanging like that." She had to swerve to miss Katara when she came to a dead stop in the middle of her path. Her vibrations had spiked considerably with shock and maidenly outrage.

"How do you know about that?!"

"I could feel it, duh. His little bird heart was hammering so loud I thought it was the Boulder for a minute. It's never like that unless he's been around you, and your's was doing the same thing. Really, the fuss you guys make over the stupidest stuff..."

"It was not stupid! It was...it was...a great kiss! It was wonderful! I -"

"Yeah, that's why you've told him how you feel, right?"

"_Toph_. Don't. It's just...it's just really complicated right now."

"What's so complicated about grabbing him by those elephant-koi ears of his and layin' a big wet one on him?"

Katara choked. What, indeed. "Well, I...don't really know, I guess. It would just be awkward." A lot like this conversation...

"Sooo...you don't like him like that?"

She couldn't move, not even if Toph tried to bend her out of the way. Do I? I love him. "I love him," she murmured to her feet.

"But."

"But..." Katara felt like she'd been tossed out into the middle of the ocean during a new moon. Virtually helpless. She floundered, feeling something in her break just a little. She swallowed back the tears that suddenly pricked behind her eyes, and she passed a hand over her face. _But_.

"I just can't see myself doing that, Toph. It would be like...kissing Sokka. _Ew_."

Toph felt her own heart squeeze at the mention of Katara's brother, but she ignored it, like she always did these days. "So you need to tell him that. Tell him you don't feel that way. Look." She paused, fumbling a bit. She'd never been good at this heartfelt, intimate crap. "You can't just let him keep believing you love him like _that_. I know you do, but it's like a mom. Right?" Of course it was. Katara loved everyone like a mom. Except maybe Zuko, but everything was an exception with him. He was like a natural Katara repellant, something she'd never thought existed except in the form of mud and disorder. But even those got cleaned up, eventually. She wondered briefly when Katara was going to clean up her act with Zuko.

Katara, for her part, was left speechless. Like a mother. He was hers to protect, wasn't he? She was the one who freed him, she was the one who carried him when he fell, it was her that had brought him back to life. He was hers. But not to love. Not like that. He was the world's to love and to cherish, to hold close and ask for guidance in its darkest hour. Who was she, to claim him all for herself? No one. A backwater Tribal peasant that still knew nothing of the world, and even less of herself. Hadn't been she been around the world and back again? Hadn't she seen miracles personified, traitors turned martyrs and heros rise from the hearts of cowards? And still she was blind to the lesson Toph seemed to have down pat. How could that be? She, who had led rebellions and raised people from the dead? She was nothing.

Her heart shriveled a little with this, and suddenly she felt very small and stupid. Toph was right. She loved Aang so much that she had to let him go. False hope, she had found, was sometimes worse than none at all. She had just wanted a little piece of it for herself, for just a little while. She knew now how selfish that really was. Parents couldn't hold onto their children forever. They had to loose the apron strings and let them fly. She knew how her father felt, now, and regretted deeply treating him the way she had on the Fire Nation vessel.

Toph could feel the broken ripples that spoke of pain and self-loathing, and actually felt a little guilty. For what, she wasn't sure, but she knew that Katara was hurting because of her bluntness, and had turned inward to face it. She was more like her counterpart than she realized. Both were so hypersensitive to the wants and pressures of those around them, and rarely dealt with their own needs. It built up, over time, until one day something poked a hole in their self-contained bubble and it all came exploding out. She sighed to herself, and wondered if she should do something to fix this. Of course. She couldn't believe she was about to say this.

"Look, Sweetness, I know you're trying. We all do. But we're also all sick of the bullcrap you and Sparky have been pulling, and it's hurting Aang. He thinks it's all his fault, that he's put too much pressure on you with that retarded kiss, and asking you to not kill Hothead. Seriously. You need to get your head back into the game. Zuko's here, he's changed, he's helping Aang save the world, right alongside the rest of us. You forgave Jet, so why can't you forgive him? I mean, the guy tried to wipe out a whole _town_ just because he didn't like a few people squatting there. Sparky's not even like that! He's never been like that. So he stole your stuff. So he was on your heels for months and months and gave you a workout. People change. He's been through a lot, probably more than you have, and you won't even give him another _chance_."

She ran out of steam here. It was probably one of the longest speeches she'd ever made, let alone in the form of a lecture slash pep-talk. It that didn't get through to her, nothing short of knocking them both on the head and locking them in a tiny room together was going to do anything. So she rocked back on her heels, and contented herself with Katara's erratic heartbeats. She was Stone. She was good at waiting, if what she was waiting for was worth it. And having her family back in one piece? Definitely worth it.

* * *

Lyrics (c) someone who isn't me. Not sure who the original artists are...if you know, tell me please?


	3. Walking On Water Modern day

A/N: And now, for something completely different. Clip from a modern-day Avatar. WITH POWERS, BAY-BEE, YEAH!

By the way, if you've got a hankering to see something specific, feel free to suggest it to me! I might just write it up for you. -luff-

* * *

_FYI: _In this day and age, different doesn't always mean bad. But there's a pretty big leap from different, to downright freaky. Zeke and Kat have finally set aside their differences, and once they managed to look past each other's mistakes, have become each other's best friend and confidante. Residing in sunny, laid-back SoCal, the two are coming back from their usual exursion to the beach in the summer before Kat's Sophomore year, and Zeke's Junior one. It was a trip they'd made a dozen times, but this one was fated to be a little different...

**WALKING ON WATER**

_Life is a dream;  
__whatever you want it to be.  
__Don't let it slip away  
__when love is here.  
_

She loved this song. Not moving from her comfortable position against Zeke, she spun the volume dial, letting the soft, stacatto bass thrum through her body. She could feel the hum of the guitar pulse in her fingertips, and quiver low in her stomach. Or maybe it was just him. She snuggled closer, pressing her face into his shoulder and inhaling the scent that always clung to him, cigarettes, cinnamon gum and just a hint of Hugo Boss. The newly added elements, sweat and sea salt, were slightly on the pungent side, but she was pretty sure she didn't smell much better. And something else, a nameless, subtle musk that was just him, a smell that made her think of dying campfires in the early morning hours, when dew was starting to coalesce and the moon was ending its journey through the tops of the highest trees. It smelled like home.

With one hand on the wheel and the other settled across the back of her seat, he was finally able to relax. There was nothing ahead of them except more road and a sprawling sunset that lit the ocean to fire. He'd scraped back his hair into a quick ponytail, keeping it out of his eyes for once, and he was able to see her without a veil of bangs shrouding his vision. Not that he usually minded, but really, he just liked to be able to look at her without any interference. He'd been down this highway so many times he could drive it blindfolded, and it gave him more leave to watch her. She had begun to nod off again, weariness evident in the droop of her shoulders and the shadows that rimmed her eyes. But it was a good kind of tired, she'd told him earlier, smiling sleepily up at him through her hair. He himself wasn't quite to her level of fatigue, but he had to agree. It was a good kind of tired. And it had been a good kind of day.

He could still smell the ocean that clung to her skin and dried in her hair. Her face was still flushed, the beginnings of a sunburn marking her cheeks and nose. She wasn't going to like that, but she _never_ wore sunscreen on her face. She said it was too gross and oily, and reminded her of gym class. He'd tried not to laugh at her, and offered to put it elsewhere.

The wind was growing cooler as it slipped through the open windows of the ancient Buick. Night was coming on faster these days, and so was fall. Soon school would be starting again. He swallowed, trying not to worry too much about it. He let his arm fall to the girl's shoulders and held her close to him, feeling the warm, even breaths she took buffet against his bare arm. He couldn't help but smile at the goosebumps the sensation created.

For so long, every breath, every heartbeat, every time her hand folded into his had been pushed aside and compartmentalized. But he hadn't been able to withstand the onslaught for too long; he didn't see how anyone could resist this girl, and didn't know why anyone would want to. It was dangerous, this feeling she'd put in him, but it was something he couldn't ignore anymore than he could look past the sky being blue. It made him do and say things he'd never dreamed of, made him want things he was afraid were beyond his grasp. He couldn't make sense of it, and he couldn't make it go away. He'd tried to, at first. The first time she'd tried to smile at him, he'd almost wound up making her cry instead.

But this girl, she didn't cry, not for herself. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen her put herself above anyone else, including him. It was just one small part of what made her so special. She was. But she was also crazy, and a motormouth, and hardheaded, and...he couldn't even finish the list, there was too much on it. But she was herself above everything, and that was the greatest thing he could think of. She wasn't afraid to be herself.

And of course the fact that she was gorgeous, didn't give a damn about his face, and actually seemed to _enjoy _spending time with him, really didn't hurt either. Most of the time he couldn't comprehend why she would want to be around him; in the beginning it had taken everything he had to keep himself from roasting her every time she opened her mouth. Sometimes he would still like to - she was nosy, and noisy, and just too damn happy to stomach sometimes. But he did anyway, because in the end, she always managed to coax a smile out of him. And he'd been noticing that the more she talked lately, the more he liked it. He loved her voice, it was clear and precise, and cut through the air like a blade. Her laugh had started out obnoxious...hell, it still was, but for some reason it always made him want to laugh, too. And he was not a laughing person. Anyone who'd been around him long enough could attest to that. Except her, she was the only one who had heard him really, actually laugh out loud, and often. He didn't think he'd ever really figure it out, but she'd found a way to get to him, and he enjoyed every minute of it, no matter what he told his family.

The song on the radio had changed. The harsher notes and screaming lyrics jarred her subconsious, and she stirred against him. He glanced back down at her, and felt his brow shoot up. Had she _drooled_ on him?! He could feel the wind run across the wet spot, chilling it, and he couldn't help but laugh at her as she flushed darker beneath the sunburn. She tried to look contrite, but couldn't quite pull it off - she was laughing, too. She pulled away a little, and a string of spittle stretched from her lower lip to his upper arm. She made a noise somewhere between a snicker and a groan, and swiped at it. He howled in mock indignation, double-taking between the road and her as he passed yet another car. He made as if to shove her away, still laughing, and got a handful of sticky, salty hair. A giggling fit had overtaken her, and she slumped limply into his hand, shoulders shaking. "Hey, I can't help it if you make a good pillow - "

And then the squealing of tires overtook her words, and a horrible crunching noise shook the entire Buick, and the world was upsidedown. The last clear picture he took with him before they smashed through the gaurdrail was one of her blue eyes, the other shrouded beneath flyaway hair, bulging in terror, and a piece of glass embedded just below it, not yet bleeding, and her mouth moving, stretching wide open in an airless scream. And then came a strange silence, and everything was suspended for about four of the longest seconds of his life, feeling nothing but a cold wind forcing its way through the shattered windshield. Then the ocean was right there, on the fender of the car, and it rose up to meet them. He felt himself lunge for Kat automatically, not realizing that hanging onto her wasn't going to do a damn thing to prevent this, but needing to have her in his arms when the impact came.

More squealing metal and busting glass, and the sea invaded the car, crashing into them like the other vehicle had, and he knew that they were going to drown. A firestarter, master of the most powerful element on earth, was going to die with water in his lungs and salt on his face like tears. Nothing, not fire or lightning or anything, could stop the tide.

And then it was like the ocean dipped. They were no longer sinking, angling into the merciless depths like the Titanic had, but all four corners of the car had evened out, the nose jerking upward and out of the drink, as if a winch had caught them and was hauling them back up. But they were at least a hundred feet below the road, _and this wasn't right._

Around them, the ocean fumed and spat, but receded. As if from an incredible distance, he saw the water begin to churn and froth, and waves rolled in, only to pull back at the last minute. And then they were going up. The battered car groaned against the force propelling it, but obeyed. Then...and then they were sitting there, on the ocean, like the car had been made for it. He felt blood and water on his face and around his feet, invading his sneakers and chilling him to the bone, could feel the life slowly leaving him, he couldn't tell from where.

But they weren't drowning anymore. He didn't understand, but now he could finally feel his heart somewhere up near his nose and his head and hands on fire with adrenaline. Beside him, it felt as if Kat was going into convulsions. Her hands stretched out beyond the circle of his arms, making crazy motions in the air, like she was trying to conduct an orchestra. Something deep in the back of his mind recognized what it was she was doing, but the rest of him didn't comprehend, and shook it off as one more surreal happening in the nightmare they were in. In front of them, the ocean stretched out endlessly, still angry at the intrusion, churning and pounding just below them. But something was different. The waves were wrong, the push and pull was all off, it was as if they were ripples in a piece of cloth being manipulated.

Suddenly Kat was out of his arms and on her side of the car, and then she was busting out the rest of the glass that remained in the windshield and she was climbing out onto the hood. Shock had rooted itself in Zeke a long time ago, but the sight of his best friend scrambling across the top _of a totalled car that was sitting on top of the ocean _called him out of his stupor. He tried to scream her name, but it came out broken and mangled, and when he tried to lunge after her, the damned seat belt did its job and pulled him backwards. Flailing, he grabbed at the belt and incinerated it in a brief flash, the fabric crumbling in his hands as ash. He didn't waste any more time, but maneuvered himself around the steering wheel to try and crawl out to Kat. But the car suddenly bucked, and swayed and dipped, and Kat was still standing out there on the hood, soaking wet, weaving her hands and arms in long, sinuous movements around her head. Stray drops of water followed the lines of her movements, trailing around her like a glittering, icy halo. _The water was following her_. And below her, the ocean mimicked her movements, pushing and pulling, slowly turning into a whirlpool.

Salt-dried hair lifted to catch the wind that came with the waves, obscuring her uplifted face so that all he could see was the grim line of her jaw and teeth set in concentration, turning her into someone else. He felt the car slowly begin to revolve on the surface of the whirlpool, dipping and bucking with every new motion of her arms. His chest contracted painfully, and he felt the shards of glass bite into his palms as he clung to the dashboard, watching the girl bend the ocean to her will. She looked like a ragged Aphrodite, rising from the waves of her birth wreak havoc on men.

Slowly, so agonizingly, gut-wrenchingly slowly, they began to shift up, farther away from the ocean's icy maw and up into the air, the water creating a whirling pillar beneath them. Salt stung his nose and eyes, and when he blinked, she was watching him from under her skein of waterlogged hair, arms and hips still swaying in rhythm with the waves. Her lips were parted and curled like an animal backed into a corner, and water clung to her eyelashes, almost as if she were crying. She choked out something, but the roar of the ocean masked her words, creating a hum of white noise, like a storm in full force. He leaned further out, trying to reach her, but not wanting to interrupt. They weren't going to die, he realized. The thing pressing on his chest loosened just a little, and he was able to breathe again.

She spoke again, eyes not leaving his face, and jerked her chin to the side, motioning to something. He pulled himself halfway out of the windshield, stretching himself along the hood to get a better look at her. Above their heads, stars reeled and the waking moon was a scythe, cutting through the darkened sky in dizzying circles. They rotated once more, still rocking upward, and he saw what she intended. The cliffs. They were jagged and rocky, shrubs and stones jutting out at intervals through the packed earth. She wanted them to grab onto the cliffs before they reached the road, and witnesses. He swung back to look up into her face, and saw that she was tiring rapidly. They didn't much time, and they had to use it wisely, or both of them were going right back into the water they'd narrowly escaped. Trying not to think about the whats and whys, he focused on getting to his feet. She shifted, hips swaying closer, and he lunged to grab onto her leg. She stumbled, arms trembling, and the car bucked alarmingly. He quickly let go; he'd done what he needed to, and hauled himself to his feet beside her.

The watched the cliff face as it swung into view once more, and glanced at each other. She nodded, and widened her stance as her arms flowed from one form to another, stilling the cyclone for just a split second. Then they both lunged, and Zeke felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, not sure if she'd moved fast enough to follow, as he collided with the sandy cliff. He fell briefly, shirt riding up and bare skin scraping painfully as he slipped, then wrapped fumbling hands around the first big rock he'd fallen past. He felt more than saw her land next to and slightly above him, and then there was a thunderous rushing noise as the car and water collapsed behind them.

Distantly, he felt the backlash as the car dove into the ocean once more, stinging water spraying their backs as the Buick displaced what felt like the whole ocean up into the air like a broken fountain. His feet quickly found spaces to fit themselves into, and he balanced himself out, feeling the rock he clung to slowly begin to jostle out of the cliff face. He wrapped an arm around a nearby vine, praying it wasn't rotten in the process, and chanced a look up. He could see Kat's feet scrambling for a hold, but she had managed to latch onto a small shelf of earth that seemed solid enough for the time being. She steadied herself in the next moment, and looked down at him over her shoulder with wide eyes.

They hung there for a few endless seconds, trying to remember how to breathe, and watching each other. Her face was streaked with drying tears and sea water, and small cuts pockmarked her cheeks and jaw. Blood dripped into both their eyes, and suddenly he could feel the massive bruise that spanned his chest and shoulder, and he almost let go of the vines. It took everything he had to stay upright, and above him, he heard her cry out to him. His vision swam beneath closed eyelids; he knew he had to make it to the road before he lost consciousness completely. He let air fill his lungs, trying to not howl at the intense pain that came with the act, and slowly begain his ascent. He managed do make it up to Kat's level, and there he paused, eyes narrowed in pain, sweating despite the cold, to check and make sure she wasn't injured, too. She hadn't moved, but had waited for him to reach her.

"Are you going to make it?" She rasped, sounding as if she had screamed all but just a shadow of her voice away. He swallowed, and nodded, trying not to faint.

"Are _you_ okay? Are you hurt anywhere else?" He had to check and make sure; she _had_ to be okay, she _would_ be okay -

"I - I don't think so, it's just my face...alright, and I cut myself climbing out of the windshield, but it's nothing. We can do this." She added this last part forcefully, trying to sound braver than either felt.

He choked on the words that formed in his throat, _what happened out there_, but they could wait for later. Right now all they needed to worry about was the climb. He reached out, letting go of his handhold, and grabbed her white-knucked fist, giving it a brief, hard squeeze. It was the only thing he could offer her, really.

_The light in your eyes  
__floats from the inside;  
__but beauty runs out, now  
__you're walking on water._

* * *

Song is "Walking on Water," lyrics (c) Ryan Cabrera.


	4. The Empty, Empty Page

**A/N:** Sooo. Another one! This one's another scene from "Becoming The Bull." Warning: **character death. **

I am so evil, i could fill in for Satan. Poor guy needs a vacation, don't you think?

* * *

**FYI:** Only a few weeks after Aang and Zuko met the Firebending masters, the Gaang was forced to split up. Due to bad timing, greedy bounty hunters, and perhaps Fate, Katara and Zuko were left on their own for the next five years. With Katara's encouragement, Zuko slowly began gathering up the downtrodden, the desperate, and the deserters, both Fire Nation and Earth Nation. Over the years, a true army has been formed, and with Zuko at its head, the rebellion has taken back several strongholds from his father's control. It seemed as if the rising tide of the Fire Nation would finally be turned back from the Earth Nation's shores. But as they say, all's fair in love and war, and no one is exempt...

**THE EMPTY, EMPTY PAGE**

_It was only one hour ago;__  
it was all so different then.__  
There's nothing yet - hasn't really sunk in.__  
Looks like it always did;__  
this flesh and bone__  
is just the way that we are tied in.  
Now there's no one home..._

She looked down at the necklace in her hands, the gift he had given her over a year ago. It looked so small and forlorn lying there, the delicate ribbon faded and fraying, the stone worn dull and smooth from countless nervous gestures. It had taken him so long to get it just right, he had told her, months in the making. He hadn't even known what it was for at the time. Just nights by a lonely fireside with no one but a sad Waterbender for company, whiling away the time carving and whittling down fired pieces of clay he had made. She had watched him do it, wondering at the odd little designs he made in them, thinking, _pappu_ used to do that too. And then thinking how strange it was, to compare this testy Firebender to her calm, wise father. It wasn't so strange, in the end. She had seen, even then, glimpses of the man that resided in the boy that walked beside her in the ditches, that made her go ahead of him up the cliffs, that held her hand and let her cry into his chest when it rained.

How much had changed since then. I used to despise the very air he breathed, and now I hold onto his gift as if it were all I had left. And then she remembered, _it _is _all I have left_. This, and a nation in ruins, begging to be put back together, hungry, weary soldiers battering down my door for supplies and support, and scared, hurting citizens huddled around me in the streets, crying out for my healing hands. I'm alone in this, now. He's not coming through that doorway to help me back on my feet, to tell me I can do this, I can face those starving hordes and smile compassionately, that I can get through another endless day and still want to keep going tomorrow.

She looked down at the necklace in her hands, the only thing that was left of her man, and didn't cry. She didn't have any tears left in her. They'd all been wrung out of her during the past month, after the news came. Why did you leave me? You promised you'd come back. You promised me. Hang the country, you were supposed to come back for _me_. But he wasn't. He was out there somewhere in a field, rotting in the early morning sunlight. He was the last of them to leave her. He was just like everyone else, abandoning her in a world she didn't understand, a world that was slowly dying, like her man had, out there under the harsh summer sun. _But you promised._

What was she to do? Was she truly the sole ruler of a nation that didn't even recognize her as a citizen, a kingdom she had only spent a few scant months in? They weren't even in the Fire Nation. After the rebellion had taken back Ba Sing Se, it had crowned the city as its main base, and it was here she had resided for almost a year. How was she supposed to defeat Azula? Sheer force of numbers? The rebel army outmatched the Fire Nation's for size, but Fire Lord Azula's troops made up for it with brute strength. Everyone knew she saved her most lethal forces for the home country, to protect the capitol from another invasion. As for Azula herself...she was unstoppable, a killing machine that knew no mercy, and dispatched her enemies in droves. How was she, a simple Waterbender from a ragtag community in the South Pole, supposed to keep an entire rebellion on its feet singlehandedly? How, without her husband by her side, as he had always been? If only she had been able to give him a proper goodbye, the way a new wife should have. Maybe by now she'd have something else of his to remember him by...

Oh, the thought tore at her. It kept her up so many nights, when she should have been sleeping and recovering from the previous exhausting day. She would pace, and wonder, and let it drag at her thoughts until she worked herself into a frenzy. It was usually then that she'd have to go outside and let the moon settle her a little, if it was out. They didn't get to have a wedding night. He had all but dragged her to the altar, spoken the words quickly, though sincerely, and had barely the time for one last, swift kiss and one roughly whispered promise before his men rushed him out the door and into battle again. She would think of that promise and all it enveloped, and weep for the wanting of it. _As soon as I walk back through this door, I don't care how many people you've got in here, I'm taking off that damn dress and having my way with you till the sun rises again._

He was never walking through that doorway. Her dusky, slender fingers closed over the necklace slowly, and she pressed her fists to her forehead, wishing she could still cry. How could a Waterbender be without water? But grief had hollowed her out, slowly, until there was nothing left but the shape of a woman, a widow in her mourning cloth, ashes on the inside. And she had a country to run, widow or not.

As if fate had heard her, a pounding came on the door. Half turning, she drew a single deep breath, set her face into an impassive look, and called for them to enter.

"Lady Katara! My Lady, please, come quick! There are people here...they're asking for you...Lady, they _flew_."

_What?_

It couldn't be. No. Impossible. Years of searching had yielded nothing, and yet...

"Lady, he looks just like the stories say. I think it's really him! The Avatar has returned!"

And then she was flying, too.

--------------------------------------------------

She took the rickety wooden stairs three at a time, charging ahead of the young soldier that had come for her. She could taste bile; her heart was somewhere in the vicinity of her nose. _Please, oh please, don't let this be some cruel joke..._

And then she was down the steps, falling into the crowd that swarmed at the bottom, and cutting her way through it to the other side. Many people stepped aside for her respectfully, some turning with awe-filled eyes to look at their leader, only to see a wild-eyed young woman, hair falling in her face, mouth taut and trembling, clothes in disarray. Most of them were soldiers in residence, and they were used to her looking as if she had just rolled out of bed. Others, citizens, did not recognize the Lady as their ruler; they only knew her from weekly Audience, when she brushed and bound her hair back, and dressed in her most impressive clothes.

But seeing as how she really _had_ just rolled out of bed, hadn't brushed her hair nor washed her face, she rather looked like a psychotic nurse on a rampage. Her clothing was still stained with last night's bloody healing sessions, her face was marked with grime and sweat. She had fallen into bed fully clothed, for once so utterly worn out that she was asleep before her head hit her pillow. So most people moved to make room rather quickly, not wanting to get in the crazy woman's way.

Over the crowd's head, she caught a glimpse of a furry, saddle-clad back, and she thought she might be sick on the spot. Her stomach quivered wildly, her pulse jumped and her heart sang, and then she was at the front of the mob and someone was screaming her name and there were iron arms around her middle and soft hair in her mouth, and she wrapped her arms around Toph and sat down with the other girl in her lap. The tears she thought had dried up were pouring down her face and falling onto Toph's wild hair, and she could feel Toph shaking and crying too. The world was a dull roar in the back of her head, and everything was suddenly too bright. A merciful shadow fell across the two friends, and she looked up, and up, into Aang's sparkling gray eyes, and then the three of them were rolling around on the ground, laughing and shouting and crying.

As from a distance, she heard another voice calling her name, calling Aang's name. Her arms full of her dear friends, she looked up again and Jeong Jeong smiled down at them. He said something, and she tried to focus. He repeated it, and she heard, "As much fun as this is, I believe we'd best go inside where it's not so...conspicuous." She turned, and saw the frothing crowd that had been at their backs, all straining to get a better look at Appa, at the Avatar and his Earthbender. Her face was probably filthy now, but she didn't care. She gathered her friends back into her, and let them pull her up. As a single unit, they followed the General into the shade of the buildings on the other side of the street, past Appa and the crush of excited people. Jeong Jeong took them further down, to the row of taverns and meeting houses, where'd they'd have some privacy. Both Aang and Toph clung to her, and she to them, unwilling to let go for even an instant, lest she wake up and find herself alone again. She was still crying. She couldn't seem to stop, now.

As they entered the second to last building on the street, she felt calming hands on her shoulders. Without turning around, she knew it to be Ursa. She could feel the other woman's presence radiating warmth and compassion, down to her toes, making her tingle. She held her loved ones closer, and found she was smiling so much her face ached. She thought, _I haven't smiled in over a month_, and her smile warped, just a little. Then she felt Toph's small hands squeeze for just a minute, and her smile grew straight again. _But right here, right now, in this moment, I am happy._

And for that moment, she really was.

----------------------------------------------------

She could feel Aang's eyes on her as she bent to pick up their empty plates, and glanced up to smile at him again. "I'm just going to put these in the sink," she laughed, even as Ursa whisked them away from her to do it herself. The other woman bumped her with a hip, and Katara fell back into her seat, still laughing. The tears had finally subsided, but now she couldn't stop the giggles from erupting. _I'm still hysterical,_ she thought vaguely, and grinned at Toph, though the girl couldn't see it. She sensed it, though, and returned the gesture. _My family is here. My family is home. Almost all of them_. Something tightened in her chest, but she shook it off to answer Aang's question of how long she had been here. "Ever since the recapture of the city. I've been trying to manage the hospices, mostly the soldiers'. But the citizens have been asking for me recently, too. It hasn't been a picnic, believe me." With that, the conviviality died down a little. Aang looked at her, somewhat bemused. "But what about Zuko? I'm sure he's helped, as much as - " and he broke off, because Katara knew she looked as though someone had sucker-punched her. _What about Zuko._

"Katara? Where _is_ Zuko?" Oh, Toph. Oh, Toph, i'm so sorry, so so sorry, I don't want to be the one to tell you, but I have to...

Aang's face was pale, now. Beside her, Toph had stiffened, alerted by both the taut silence and Katara's stuttering heartbeat. The Avatar swallowed, and asked the question Toph was suddenly afraid to. "Katara...what's happened?"

The Earthbender felt something knot in her stomach and rise in her throat when nothing but Katara's fluttering heart answered. To her horror, she felt her chin start to quiver, and she grit her teeth against it. She fumbled for her friend's arm, found it, squeezed. "You have to tell us." Oh please, make it quick...

"He's dead. Zuko's dead." Three people felt their hearts stop, for just a second. _What?_

Before she could stop herself, a sob tore its way out of Toph's throat. She couldn't breathe. _I did not just hear that. I did _not_ just hear that._

Aang felt something reel away from him, spinning slowly in the air before it disappeared entirely. He realized it was himself. Reality realigned itself, and shifted to make space for this newest tragedy. _Why does everyone I care for go away? _This new hollowness settled somewhere in his throat, and he blinked back tears. "Wh -" He cleared his throat, speaking past the knot - "When? What happened, Katara?" You've been here, all by yourself, in an endless labyrinth of a city, trying to take care of everyone but you? He could see the raw fatigue that marked his beloved's face, had seen it and taken quiet note of it when he first laid eyes on her, promising himself to have a long talk with Zuko about running his Waterbender ragged. He wasn't going to be able to keep that promise now.

Katara felt the blood leave her face, looked down at her hands and saw that they were bloodless as well, twisted into fists in the tablecloth. _Like Zuko._ "He - almost a month ago, one of the men from his battalion returned, alone - he was the last one, there weren't any left...he saw, he saw Zuko fall - " Her voice cracked as she spoke his name. "The Battle of Tei Bai. He fell at the Battle of Tei Bai." _My husband died at the Battle of Tei Bai, one of the bloodiest sieges in the war so far._ Beside her, Toph was trying not to cry. She was still hanging on to Katara's arm; she could feel the shudders running up and down her friend's slight frame.

Aang had actually gone paler when he heard the name. "Tei Bai...Sokka and Iroh are passing through there on their way here!" He swallowed uneasily as Katara's eyes flew up to meet his.

"They're coming? _Here_?" She was over the table in a second, grabbing at his shirt front. "_Aang_. Aang, _why didn't you tell me_?" She sat back down heavily, suddenly spent. My brother...what about the others? "What about everyone else? You said they were alright, but what are they doing now? What about Haru, and the Duke -" _he's so _little,_ still _"- and my Dad and everyone?" Her red-rimmed eyes searched his desperately. He met them stoically, glad to finally give her some good news.

"They're all coming. The Northern Water Tribe decided it was finally time to join the fight, to join the main army and help Z-.... to help defeat Azula's forces. We told you, we'd been regrouping there after the attack on the Air Temple, and they didn't think it was a good idea for us to leave...and Iroh and Master Pakku have been helping me, teaching me to reconnect with the Spirit World. I was successful only recently...that's why they decided to break their silence and come out into the open.

"Your Dad and Sokka were the most vocal about wanting to rejoin with the rest of the army...the Northern Tribe Chief would let us go, sometimes, but only on small excursions, to see what was going on with the war...they didn't think it was a good idea to reveal that I was still alive, when I still couldn't master the Avatar State, or Firebending.

"...but now, here we are!" He finished his rather breathless explanation with a toothy smile, hoping to have soothed her, at least a little. It helped, somewhat. He saw her body relax, bit by bit, until she was slumped in her seat beside Toph. The two girls leaned until they rested against one another, the younger girl burying her face in the other's shoulder.

Katara felt something cool sweep through her, a calming breeze. The rest of her family was alive and well, and on their way to help. Then she looked down at Toph, and worried. She was not reacting to the news the way she thought the girl would; she had imagined shouting, and foot-stamping, and denial. Not this meek little thing beside her, sniffling into her shoulder quietly. She put her arm around her friend, and held her against her warmly. For a few minutes, there was nothing but the silence, and the muffled clang of pots and pans being cleaned in the kitchen by Ursa. They all stared at the table, each holding private counsel with themselves. Katara drew an absentminded hand along the curve of her necklace...and realized she wasn't wearing it. She had been holding it this morning, hadn't she? When the news came. She must have set it down, or...she angled herself so that she could get a hand in one of her apron's pockets, and ah, there it was.

Pulling her hair to one side, she drew her other arm away from Toph and retied her betrothal necklace back on, where it belonged. Aang watched her, not really registering the movement, until he noticed something. "Hey, what happened to your necklace?" That question again, _what happened_. More explanations to be given. This one, she wasn't sure if she was ready for. But then, she hadn't been for the last one, either.

Beside her, Toph straightened and muttered, "What's wrong with it?" She didn't want to think anymore. Best to put her focus on something else, until she could find a private spot and take her grief out on the earth.

Katara shifted in her seat. "I just needed a new ribbon for it, is all. The old one finally broke." It was the truth, too, just not all of it. _Just leave it at that, please Aang, I don't think I can talk about this right now...not here, not with you._

"But...it's _red_."

"In case you hadn't noticed, there's not really a surplus of blue dyes around here." _Don't notice the pendant, don't notice the -_

"The design looks different. And the stone...looks different too. _Is_ that your mother's necklace?"

_Think._ "Actually...the stone got crushed, a few years back. I just got so used to wearing one, that I got another necklace. It's not Mom's...nothing will replace Mom's."

"No, I guess not...I'm sorry, Katara. I know how much it meant to you." _You have no idea. And my necklace isn't gone, it's somewhere in the fields of Tei Bai, left to rot around my husband's wrist._

Toph wanted up. Katara scooted out of the seat so that the girl could stand, and she did so, stretching so that her back and shoulders popped. "Well, I don't know about the rest of you losers, but this girl needs something a little stronger than peach-guava juice. Anyone up for it?" She needed some fire-whiskey in the worst way, and she didn't care who's ass she needed to bend out of her way to get it. She was sure it was in steady supply in the soldiers' district.

She felt the older woman, Ursa, come up to the table. Her heartbeat was a soothing one, steady and strong, like the mountains, like a bonfire, like sunlight. Unconsciously, her shoulders relaxed. "We should have some lotus wine in the back." She could imagine the look Ursa was giving her as she said this, could tell what she was thinking. How old are you, to be drinking such strong spirits? _Lady, a lot older in spirit than I ever will be in body._

"Thanks. Lead the way, will you?" She turned in the direction of her friends. "Anyone else up for it?" She knew Aang would refuse, but Katara would understand.

She felt her stand, and sigh. "I think a little kick would go a long way right now." Aang looked at Katara with a sad smile.

"You guys go on...I'll talk to Jeong Jeong about a place for Appa and us to sleep, and tell him about the others that are coming. They need to know about the others that are behind us." Standing, he wound his arms around his Waterbender and held her briefly; she laid a cheek on his shoulder - he'd gotten so _tall;_ he towered over her by several inches - and hugged him back. "I'll see you guys in a little while, okay?"

They murmured their goodbyes, and Aang was gone, Katara tracking him with her eyes until he was out the door and out of sight. With another soft sigh, she and Toph followed Ursa to the good stuff, to have one last drink for a fallen friend.

---------------------------------------

"I dunno how much you know about him, but he was like a brother to me." Later on, Toph had downed most of her own bottle of lotus wine. "A big, smart-mouthed, shirt-mending, piggy-back ride-giving brother." She felt something prickle behind her sightless eyes, but she was too far gone to care.

She could feel Ursa's heart flutter at her words. "I've always loved hearing Katara's stories about him, when he first joined your group...that boy never could tell his up from his down." She gave a watery chuckle. She, too, had imbibed the spirits, but only enough to feel the first blush of warmth in her stomach.

"Yep, that's Sparky for you...sometimes, I swear that boy was like a chicken-rat with it's head cut off." She shook her head fondly. Most of the initial shock had worn off, and she felt like talking, something she was usually adverse to doing, especially when it involved her own feelings. Then Ursa's words caught up to her own fuzzy brain. "Wait...di'you know him? You met him?"

Another flutter, a silence. She sensed something then, a pain that shivered along the floorboards that she was unfamiliar with. "I know him because he was my son."

And for once in her life, the Blind Bandit was struck speechless. She could feel her mouth open and close, but for the life of her, couldn't think of a single word to say. And what can you say to that, really? 'I'm sorry?' 'I thought you were dead?' 'I loved him too?'

She didn't know she was crying again until she felt warm, strong arms go around her, hold her against a calming, steady heartbeat. "It's alright, my darling...I've known for some time now, and I still wake up crying. So will you, for a long while. It doesn't go away, it...just gets a little bit easier to bear, after a fashion." Dully, Toph nodded against her shoulder. She knew. She had lost people before. Just...not like this. Not one of her own, not family. For so long, Zuko and Katara had been lost to them, and it was like a frigging stalactite through her heart every time she had wondered where they were, how they were, if they were even alive. And now, to have been so close, but just a little too late...to hear his rasping voice near her ear, feel the steady, wonderful pulse of his heart underneath her hands when he let her on his back, to smell his hair and have it tickle her nose, feel the tightly coiled tension of his shoulders and back glide along her arms...he'd been so _alive_, full of the fire he controlled. And to have that fire snuffed out, _just like that_...she didn't know how she could get past this. She still hadn't quite wrapped her head around the fact: he's dead, and he's never coming back.

She could feel Katara's pulse, too, despite Ursa's closeness; it was weak and slightly off. It had been like that since they first landed, and she had felt her old friend's achingly familiar vibrations through the trusty stone that was her element. Oh, she had recognized it immediately, as off-kilter as it was, but still...Katara was sick. She felt it deep in her bones, knew it deep within her own heart. She's really sick, and she's getting worse. _What happened to you, Sweetness?_ But she didn't ask. Even she, Queen of Tactlessness, knew that now wasn't the time to interrogate Katara. She was still grieving, even now. Something had happened, something bigger than death, something...Toph shook her head and leaned away from Ursa, catching her breath. All this touchy-feely crap is making me dizzy, she thought crankily. So she smirked in their general direction - I'm the Blind Bandit, I'm tougher than any steel I bend - and downed the rest of her wine in one long drag. She thought she heard Katara sigh in exasperation, and felt the breath she took to start nagging her on the evils of too much alchohol, no doubt, and thought, _at least some things haven't changed._


	5. Forces of Nature

Hokay. First off, I did not take the idea of 'stormbending' from Fandomme, just the title. I actually got the idea for it while watching the FBM episode. I'm a rabid Zutarian, and as such kept trying to come up with ideas to bring the two closer together. I decided a long time ago to have them blend their elements into one epic weapon, but couldn't really figure out what it looked like until that episode, and didn't have a name for it until i read Ozai's Vengeance. So..there. =p

Also, this is a rough, ROUGH draft. There's a lot i'm unhappy with, but i don't have a beta, and unsure as to how to go about getting a good one that's FAST. That, and i really don't think an official beta would appreciate someone sending them random snippets once in a blue moon, instead of a whole chapter ever couple of weeks or so. Meh.

So please, if you've got any suggestions at ALL for this part, please tell me! Nicely, of course. _; i'd appreciate it greatly. I want to improve my writing, so that more people can enjoy it. Now if i could just learn how to just sit down and write a full chapter on time...

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**FYI:** It's been three years since the separation of Zuko and Katara from the Gaang, and since then Zuko has gathered to himself the deserters, the traitors and the rebels that reside in the wartorn Earth Kingdom. The kings have been captured, and are being held in New Ozai. Taking it upon themselves to get them back, our intrepid heroes plan a little late-night rescue, just the two of them. Only Jet gets wind of it, and the rescue party happens to multiply by several hundred...

**FORCES OF NATURE**

From the other side of the battlefield, she heard his whistle, calling her to him. She ducked another flaming fist and sidestepped a flurry of kicking feet, making her way towards him through the smoke-ridden chaos. The air was heavy with the stench of burning flesh and spilled blood, but she breathed the way she had been taught, and swept across the field, dodging and leaping and using what little moisture she could suck from the air as a battering ram. She stumbled over countless numbers of disembodied limbs and charred bodies, and did her best not to vomit at the sight. She was a healer, she was a warrior. She was supposed to be immune to it all.

She dropped to her haunches to avoid the serrated edge of a blade that shrieked through the air where her neck had been seconds before, and sent a frozen wave into the soldier's torso, lifting him off of his feet and throwing him several yards. She didn't bother to check to see where he'd landed, or if he was getting back up. She sprang back up and surged forward, calling back her water only to thrust it forward once more, this time dividing the liquid into two elongated arms, and used them as a wedge to part the writhing sea of soldiers before her, sending them flying back into each other. A single path was cleared, directly ahead of her, and she wasted no more time. She plunged into the rapidly dwindling window of opportunity, running the gauntlet fearlessly. Her army roared at her back, right on her heels to join her as she continued to sweep more of the enemy from their path. The whistle sounded again, this time much closer, just a little to her right...

And then she saw him above the heads of the roiling masses; he had lunged at the enemy's back, leaping to land a fatal blow to the top of their skull. A flying spin and kick, and he disappeared once more into the melee; it was enough, she could find him easily now. Twist, lunge, parry, she fought back an enterprising fellow who had collected a rotting log in place of his lost spear, very briefly letting the thought cross her mind; these people are just as savage as us, just as desperate. And then his throat spewed blood as her razor-thin ice blades sliced into him, spattering across her arms and shoulders. She couldn't afford to feel sorry for them; war was not a game.

She whistled back to let him know she was coming, and moved on. Almost there, just a little bit more - with every step she took she encountered another obstacle; every soldier she met was an enemy. She could feel her compatriots at her back, keeping them off of her as she moved closer to her destination. She took a few more running steps, feinting and twisting away from spears and swords and fireballs, then she called the water to her once more, and again it cleared the path before her. And then she had Zuko her in her sights, at the other end of that tunnel...._now_.

With a burst of power called from the base of her spine, she summoned the water, and it shot up in sheets on either side of her gauntlet, following her steps as she flew towards him. The walls rose and fell according to her progress, dissolving behind her only to spill into the next line of defense ahead of her. There could be no distractions, not for this. They had to clear the way for the army, they had to get them into New Ozai to free the kings - by any means necessary.

At the other end of her self-made path, burning gold met steely blue, and he beat back a few more soldiers from his side before throwing himself down the center of the bloodstained road. He was going to meet her halfway. They still had half a field to cross, but between the Lady's bending and his swords, they would persevere, and do what had to be done. And around them, soldiers screamed and died on their kinsmen's blades, women wept, and hatred seeped into the war-torn earth, staining the rock beneath it. Centuries later, this field would be known as the Killing Grounds**, and few would venture across it for fear of lost, bloodstained spirits.

Closer, a dozen yards, fire raining around them, then half a dozen yards; a group of desperate men threw themselves at Zuko's back, and he cremated them in a furious blaze of white-hot flames. Screams echoed, men died in vain and the spirits held their breaths. And then they were there, only a dozen feet from each other, the man sheathing his swords on the run and twisting into what looked like a series of bending positions even as he kept sprinting, the woman echoing his movements, only in reverse. Push and pull, lunge and parry, feint and cross, gaining ground even as their elements ghosted around them, following every movement, at their masters' beck and call.

And then they were right in front of each other, and there was one last lunging, twisting movement as they ran straight for the other, and lightning split the air between them, followed by the roar of the ocean. The two masters collided, their elements meeting as fist met palm.

Every man and woman in the field that day would say something different, later on. Miles away, more people that saw the explosion of light would correspond with the basics of the story, but each region would have their own little spin on things. Some said that an _oni _appeared on the battlefield that day as forbidden water and fire collided, and sent a wave of demonic power to break the mountain of Omashu in two in retribution. Others would say that the two benders became possessed by Oma and Shu, and broke down the legendary barrier that had kept them apart for so long with their spirit magic.

But everyone who was there that day agreed on one thing: it was the two benders, Prince Zuko and the Lady Katara, that led the charge that destroyed the ancient mountain. Though no one could quite decide on how.

Jet would always remember the light, so white it seemed endless, and he thought for a moment that he was dead and headed to the Other Side. He had grabbed Jin's head and pulled them both down as soon as he saw the power surge out from the center of the field, and ripple outward like a war banner. And then he found himself sprawled over Jin in a daze, wondering if she'd been killed too, blinking the incredible white light from his vision, and sweating from the intense heat. Then he felt her gasping beneath him, and an elbow gouging into his ribs, and he figured that if he and Jin were dead, she certainly wouldn't be in Hell with him.

Sokka saw his sister and the Fire Prince through the haze of heat and steam, and knew to shield his eyes just before they hit. He hadn't, however, been planning on grabbing Toph by the arm and pulling her up against him as the light flared above their heads, spreading apart like a Kyoshi fan opening for battle. When he felt the earth tremors, he figured it was her getting pissed off his rather unwise intimate act, but then Toph choked and wrapped both arms around his torso, clinging to him like a hungry leechfly. And somehow, he knew that something incredible was happening. When the light and heat finally receded, and he chanced a look up, he felt as if he'd gotten lost somehow. There were two pitiful looking hills far to their left, right where he'd left Mount Omashu when he'd ducked.

It took Toph screaming, "_Holy flying hogmonkeys, they did it!!_" to make him realize: that _was_ Mount Omashu.

Her voice echoed across the eerily silent plain, ringing in Fire Nation and Rebel ears alike. And then, as if the cry had been a bucket of ice-cold water, a dull roar started. It rolled in waves over the field, rising in parched, hoarse throats and thrumming in their limbs. Then came the stamping of feet, as Toph tore herself from Sokka's arms to lift her arms in a victorious pose, and pounded the earth beneath her with her small, calloused feet. Others took up the stomping, and soon the field was pulsing, alive with the victory cry of hundreds of deserters and traitors to the Fire Nation, and Earth Kingdom rebels alike.

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**Better name, please! ;_; I'm really not that good with dramatic-sounding stuff.


	6. What Goes Around MD

The song has nothing to do with the scene; just the chorus. Belongs to Justin Timberlake.

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**FYI:** Modern-day AU. Kat Waters and Zeke Holt just don't get along. Why? She has no idea, she only knows he's an obnoxious, stuck-up jerk that enjoys making her miserable. Although giving as good as she gets isn't so bad...

**WHAT GOES AROUND**

_What goes around, goes around,  
__goes around, comes all the way  
back around._

Kat sighed, and squirmed in her seat. She could feel the boy's feet shifting underneath her desk, clanging annoyingly against the metal as they moved. She grit her teeth, and sent a narrow glare at him from the corner of one eye. He wasn't even looking up; his head was down, seemingly concentrating on the test before him. Arms draped loosely across his desk, one crooked up and supporting his bent head. She swung around, pursing her lips. Her seat shook again as he shifted his feet a little, crossing them at the ankle. The guy was slumped so far in his seat, it was a miracle he hadn't oozed down beneath the table.

She blinked, and tried to control the smirk that wanted to erupt across her face. She waited another couple of minutes, waiting to hear him slide down a bit further. Sure enough, there went the feet. She could almost see the tips of his worn-out sneakers peeking out from the front of her desk. Her chair shook, but she ignored it. The teacher didn't seem to realize what was going on, no matter that she was constantly on their cases for propping their feet up on the chairs and disturbing the people in front of them. She tensed, pulling herself upright. Chanced a discreet look behind her. Four, three, two -

She lifted her desk off the floor, and _yanked _it forward. The worn metal protested, sending muffled shrieks into the thin carpet as she almost dropped it. The feet that had been showing themselves under her caught in the grate beneath her desk, and followed her. A satisfying _"hwmph!"_ came from the boy behind her as he was dragged, along with the rather painful sound of flesh scraping across wood. Dropping her desk back to the floor, panting a little, she craned her neck to see the damage. And burst out laughing.

Awkward didn't begin to cover it. He looked more startled than mad - he'd made it almost all the way to the floor before the table attached to his chair caught him on the chin, and his arms were caught up at a comical angle out on either side of him, flailing at the sides of his desk. To cap the scene, his shirt had ridden up when he got sucked under, and was bunched up in his face, and caught on the back of the chair. His feet were, unfortunately, still caught up in her seat. Scrambling, he tried to get them untangled, and back under him so he could push himself upright. It wasn't working out too well. Her desk heaved, but she was doubled over, shrieking with mirth, and didn't notice. Around her, the other students were howling, banging on their tables and shaking with laughter.

The boy's face was steadily growing redder, and with a hiss, he suddenly shoved her desk forward with what little momentum he had, sliding entirely out of his seat and sprawling onto the floor. Kat, not expecting the sudden movement, yelped as her desk rocked forward on its front feet, and she struggled to regain balance. With a grunt, she forced it back down, bouncing in her seat as she landed. She clung to the edge of the table, shaking a little, and spun around to glare at him - only to have to redirect the stare a few feet below eye level, as he was flat on his back on the floor of the classroom, giving her the same glare from behind shaggy bangs.

Ms. Wulruth was already on her feet, her short legs pumping as she marched over to their side of the room. "Ms. Waters, why is your desk halfway across the room? Zeke..." She sputtered for a moment. "What in God's name are you doing on the _floor_?" Her spiky eyebrows were somewhere in the vicinity of her hairline, and her little rosebud mouth made a tight moue of disapproval. Sweet Ms. Wulruth looked ready to spit nails.

Kat could feel the laughter bubbling its way back up to spill out, but she swallowed it back, tearing her eyes away from the satisfying sight of Zeke Holt flat on his back. "Um." She managed to choke out. At the same moment, Zeke let loose an almost intelligible sentence; all she could make out was "_She did it_."

Kat's mouth dropped open, and she twisted more in her seat, sending the boy a death glare. "You obnoxious little p -"

Their teacher interrupted hastily. "Well, from the looks of it, I'd say you both need to make a trip to the principal's office, to cool down. How does _that_ sound?" She folded her arms against an ample chest, her small, dumpling shaped figure shaking with outrage. This sort of thing never happened in _her_ classroom.

Zeke's eyes never left Kat's. "Sure. Why not," he growled, his mouth twisting into a smirk. Kat drew a sharp breath in through her nose. _The _principal's office_? I've never been sent there once! Not in my entire life! That weaselly little snot rag, he's going to ruin my record!_ She didn't have to fake the horrified, contrite look she sent Ms. Wulruth. The woman didn't budge, just tightened her mouth and hiked her brows again. She turned her attention to the delinquent still on the floor.

"What are you still doing down there? Up you get! Both of you, now - and if you think I'm not going to check to make sure you didn't _get lost _on your way there, you've got another thing coming." She clapped her hands sharply, and both students lurched to their feet, ignoring the sniggers and hidden smirks around them. Kat refused to meet that heated gaze again, choosing to look at her feet, feeling something welling up inside her that felt very much like hate.

Once again, he'd managed to pull one over on her. Somehow, every time she tried to make it even between them, it only made things worse. She couldn't win, it seemed. Not against him. Even though he might catch the heat right along side her, it didn't make the feeling lessen. He was always pushing her, with his little snide remarks about her hair, her homework, her brother; the way he didn't seem to think she was worth the effort it took to move out of her way passing by, instead giving her shoulder checks in the hallway, through the doorways of classrooms; he even cut in front of her at lunch! Making her spill her drinks, sweeping up behind her to give her a heart attack, never letting her get into her locker in peace...and now this. This was the last darned straw, she swore. No more. She didn't know how she'd do it, but she'd set him straight. He was a bully, but bullies were ultimately cowards, weren't they? Could she somehow...bully him back? Cow him into submission?

As soon as she thought it, she dismissed it as ridiculous. She wasn't like him. She was better than that. Maybe this time, she thought. Maybe this time will be the last time. She bit her lip as they made their way to the door, sidestepping desks in their way, not meeting any of her classmates' smirking faces. Some of them weren't (Who would have thought mousy little Kat Waters capable of a stunt like that?), but she didn't notice.

Somehow, she swore. Somehow she'd make him leave her alone, for good.

For now, though, she'd probably have to put up with him in her very first detention.

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Please, PLEASE tell me what y'all think! Feedback is my soda. I need it to liiiiiiive....


	7. To Want Me MD

Once again, please tell me if there's any problems with this piece! Spelling, grammar, runons, whatever. I live for feedback.

Angst and fluff are just around the corner!! =o you have been warned.

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**FYI**: Zeke Holt isn't the most popular guy in school; he may have moved out of his father's house and changed his name, but thanks to the scar, everyone still knows who he is. After one especially harrowing day confronting the principal in front of most of the school population, he comes home to brood...

**TO WANT ME**

_Oh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you cryin'?__  
Feelin' all alone without a friend; I know you felt like dyin',  
Oh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you cryin'?_

The rain was coming down even harder, driving across his vision in angry, angled sheets. He was soaked to the skin even as he crouched beneath the old awning that covered the front porch. The rusty Buick was only two or three yards away, probably taking a beating, but to his eyes, the rain appeared to be a shimmering gray curtain pulled across the front of the steps, obscuring everything that lay three or four feet beyond his line of vision. The sound came like snow from a lost TV signal, thundering against the roof and breaking across the concrete before him in waves. It was soothing, in an way he didn't bother to think about. He didn't want to think about anything, right now. He let the storm sink into his thoughts, his skin, his eyes. He didn't blink against the onslaught; if he were crying, at least no one would be able to tell.

Not that anyone would be out here with him, not in this weather. His uncle and sister were both upstairs; the old man probably sound asleep, and Tam most likely with her sound-reducing mega-headphones on, drowning out the storm and her own fears with angry music. No one would think to look for him out here on the sagging front porch, watching the storm. They didn't normally interest him. In fact, he'd never really liked the rain, period; it got into everything, from squelching in his shoes to dragging down his backpack to plastering his shaggy hair into his eyes, stinging and obscuring everything around him. It beat down across his shoulders and back like his father used to, only his father's fists were much, much hotter.

He didn't know why the rain reminded him of his old family, but whenever he felt the icy pinprick of water crawling down the back of his neck, spitting into his face and turning his blood to ice, he thought of his father and the last time he saw him. But he didn't want to think about that right now. He wished his brain had an off switch. He wished he had someplace to go, he wished someone would come up and ask him what was wrong and maybe sit with him a while. But people like him didn't have friends. He had an aging uncle that regurgitated convoluted, useless sayings and thought tea was God's answer to everything, and a sister who wasn't his real sister, but should have been, that preferred a good tussle-and-toss on the living room floor to meaningful silences and hugs.

Not that he wanted a hug. He'd claim his undying love to Spence Waters in front of the entire student body before he ever admitted he wanted something as personal and silly as a hug. So he sat on the front steps of his odd, quiet little home, wrapping his own arms around his middle and trying to believe that it was just the rain that soaked his clothing and ran down his face.

He was strong. He had always been strong, and stoic, and the one that never complained about life's storms. Because everyone else did, and what was the point, really? It never changed anything, and it wouldn't make anyone care any more than they already didn't. So he kept his mouth shut and his head down, and if someone else had a problem with it, then he'd deal with it when it came. Why play nice? Every time he did, all he got for his efforts were hateful looks and a boot in the ass, telling him to remember his place, remember who he was and what his father did. They didn't realize that he couldn't forget, no matter how much he may have wanted to. In the end, he just gave them what they all wanted, because every time he tried otherwise he always wound up face down in the mud, wallowing in self-loathing and old scars ripped open; so surprised, because wasn't he supposed to be over it by now?

So he hated himself. It was easier than trying to be someone different.

Wasn't it?

He wasn't kind. He wasn't tactful. He wasn't contrite, or forgiving, or any of those other things a person needed to be to better themselves. The only thing he really had going for him was honesty. He was truthful to a fault, something he prided himself on, on the good days and -

_- Who the hell would want to stand in front of my house in the middle of a lightning storm? _...Oh.

He blinked, finally, and made to stand up. She just gave him that little, ironic smile that she reserved for their shared moments of idiocy, like now, and fluttered her fingers; _don't get up for me_. Her long, dark hair had come loose from its braid and was plastered to her face and neck, straggling over her thin shoulders and down the canal of her back. He could just make out her eyes, held in sharp relief against the grey of the storm and the ink of her hair, glittering like stars in the gloom. Her eyes and her smile, the two brightest things about her. The smile warped just a little under his gaze, turning into something more grown-up and sad.

"Did you enjoy the show?" His voice, was more gruff than usual, and bitterness lent a keen, low edge to it. He didn't think she could hear him over the rain. She moved closer, looking down at the top of his head, bent now over his knees.

She didn't say anything, and he winced. He chanced a glance up to peer into her face, and - she looked like hell, but she was still smiling, lips tight and shaking. Her fingers flexed at her sides indecisively, before coming up to tangle in his hair. He closed his eyes, suddenly unable to keep them open for a moment longer. Her hands wove through the shaggy locks, kneading his scalp, and he leaned into them, trying not to say anything. She drew in a shuddering breath, and when he cracked his good eye open to listen to her speak, her face was only a few inches from his. Her mouth was still trembling, and when she finally said something, the shock nearly knocked him off the porch.

"You have no idea - "

And of course he leapt in, as always jumping ahead of her, "I knew exactly what I was doi -"

"- _no idea_ - "

" - WHAT I WAS DOING, I don't care if I'm expelled - "

" - how frakking _proud_ of you I am today."

" - _so don't stand there_ and tell me that it....wait, what?"

She closed off the last small distance between them, pulling his head into her stomach. He went very still, hands out and hovering indecisively at her hips. She was shaking, whether from the rain or some unknown emotion, he couldn't tell, but he closed his eyes and let her hold him. Her fingers had worked themselves into the short growth at the nape of his neck, and her face was pressed into his hair. Slowly, as if they were trying to remember how this worked, his arms stole upwards around her waist, limply hanging onto the back of her jacket for support. He buried his face in her shirtfront and tried to remember how to breathe. _Proud of you. Proud of you. _

Uncle hadn't heard yet, and so had yet to say anything. Tam had laughed herself sick and punched his arm, _that rocks, bro_. No one but his uncle ever used _that word._ Not with him. And did the old man even count? Not right now, he didn't.

_Proud of you_. "Someone had to stand up to that prick. Might as well be me, right?" His voice was muffled, as she still had him in an awkward, but nice, sort of headlock.

_Proud of you._ "Better me than someone with something to lose."

Her slim, strong fingers tightened in his hair, and she squeezed him briefly, before pushing him away from her unsteadily. Her hands lingered on his shoulders. He looked up at her, not quite meeting her eyes. Why the hell is she crying? All I did was argue with a teacher...the principal...who's a close, personal friend of my deranged, megalomaniac father...."Look, that jerk-off had it coming, I just did wh -"

What else he might have said was promptly forgotten forever as lightning struck the Buick's antenna and a cool, wet mouth pressed against his. Everything, the rain, the unsteady light, her hands, his heart, went totally and utterly still for one agonizingly long, sweet second. From behind closed eyelids the brief crash of light imprinted on his retinas, and years later he would still see that jagged streak of lightning, and smell the biting, clear scent of ozone and wet concrete and earth when he kissed her. Then the lightning blinked out of existence, and the rain thundered around them, but her lips were still there, brushing against one corner of his mouth. He found his hands grasping her forearms where they leaned into his shoulders, and he couldn't make himself let go.

But then she pulled away, too soon, leaning back inch by inch until she could look him in the eyes. Even in the half-dark, this close, he could see that her face was flaming, a deep red bloom in dusky cheeks wet with rain and probably tears. His brain felt like he'd just put his finger in a light socket. A new one. Before he could stop himself, he found himself asking, lowly, as if someone might hear him, "what was that for?"

Her lips pressed together, the subtle movement drawing his gaze. Then she smiled, and he found himself swallowing heavily. She was close enough that her breath buffeted his face when she said, giving him _his_ smile, "just for being you."

_Proud of you._

Somehow he found enough of his wits to get out the next sentence. "I never thought that could be a good thing."

It made her laugh, her head falling back to look into the rain that fell around them. Something inside him loosened, just a little, just enough to make him laugh too and grab her elbows to keep her from falling off the porch. She looked back down at him, droplets caught in her eyelashes and still smiling, and let her knees unlock. He stretched his legs out enough to make room for her as she slid lazily into his lap, straddling him. Her cool, damp hands snuck up his shoulders and tangled themselves behind his neck, making sure he couldn't move away. He was pretty sure he didn't want to. She let their foreheads fall together, and suddenly he was _very _sure.

"You know," she murmured, and her lips brushed his with each syllable, "I really thought you were going to roast him. I mean, literally. Like, _frwoosh_." Her hands made a sloppy exploding motion behind him, illustrating her point. He wasn't really paying attention by then, though; by the time she'd gotten to 'thought' his universe had narrowed considerably, to the steady measure of her pulse and the weight of her against him and the way her soft, wet lips moved against his. So he smirked, and nodded absentmindedly. She laughed at the movement, her head bobbing in time with his.

Whatever it was that had loosened inside of him earlier was expanding, moving and shifting things around that he hadn't realized were so heavy, and he realized that he couldn't care less about what was going to happen at school tomorrow. Or the day after, or what they were going to do with Tam, or if he was going to be ready for the EuroHistory test this Friday. He felt so _light_. Such a strange sensation, especially since there was extra baggage perched in his lap, chattering on. Her mouth made a moue as she said something else, something about the Buick, her fingers drawing abstract patterns across his shoulders and back, and he realized that she really did smell good. Like the rain that fell around them, but also something else. Something simple and straightforward, but he couldn't quite place it. Actually -

"Do you think it's OK?"

"...Hum?"

"...you haven't heard anything I've said, have you."

"Ye -es...no?...er, no, not really."

"Alright, Spence. Enough cosmonauting; it's time to return to Earth."

"I do _not _sound like your brother. I have at least a 30 - no, a 40 - point jump on him in the IQ department."

"Just because you've got a hot girl in your lap does not give you automatic exaggeration rights. I happen to know you and Spence are about neck and neck in the 'IQ department.' "

"...that's right, you were -"

" - sitting right beside you during the test? Yeah. I gave you the answer to like, five of of the math problems."

"Dammit. You know, I really don't want to talk about...or think about...or acknowledge the existence of in any way, shape or form....your brother. Especially when his little sister is sitting in my lap. Makes me damned uncomfortable. _About your brother_. That your brother might find out. Not that - it's -" Her eyebrows had hiked into her hairline, and she looked like she was either going to sneeze or laugh at him. "Not that you make me uncomfortable! This is...good. It - I – you're really pretty."

She burst out laughing, and hooked her legs around his hips, effectively shutting down any final lingering coherent thoughts he might have had. "I'm also hungry. And cold." Her tone was too innocent, and she grinned up at him from underneath glittering lashes.

"Yes, Tam - _Ma'am_." And he slid his hands along her thighs to hitch her more securely against him. She might have made a noise, but he was too busy standing up and enjoying their proximity to really notice. He carried her like that into the house, and she clung to him like a sloth the whole way. Her chin rested on his shoulder, her arms and legs wrapped tightly around him.

Her breath in his ear, among other things, was driving him to distraction, and he almost missed the kitchen. With a playful growl, he swerved around the couch, trying to drop her off there. She laughed silently into his shoulder, body quivering as she held on determinedly, refusing to let go. He couldn't remember what she said, or what he may or may not have said back, but it was making her laugh and squirm against him, and though he made a half - maybe just a quarter - hearted attempt to shush her, he really couldn't complain. With every faked attempt to drop her, her nails would dig into his back and her thighs would tighten around him. She couldn't see the smirk that crossed his face as she narrowly escaped being dropped onto the dining table. He tried not to think too much about what might have happened, had he succeeded.

Trying not to be loud, but not always managing, they argued their way into the kitchen. With a groan, he hitched her up onto the counter nearest the fridge, and tried to untangle their limbs. She wouldn't let him; she kept digging her heels into his back and squeezing every time he tried to get to the ice box. Needless to say, he didn't try very hard. Her jacket buttons had also gotten caught in the rip that trailed along the hem of his shirt, and that stopped him, too. He didn't know what had happened, but she was still giggling and it was contagious. He _never_ giggled. At the risk of sounding like her jackass of a brother, it was unmanly.

"Ok, are you hungry or not?"

She finally deigned to let go of his shoulders, but kept her legs in place. She was grinning. "Yes, please."

His eyebrows raised in a silent question, and glanced pointedly between them. Smirking, she leaned her head back against the cabinets, letting her hands fall to the counter. "You're just going to have to get used to it, I gue - _oomph_!" She was cut off when he yanked her unceremoniously off of the countertop; she almost fell, but caught herself on his neck just in time. He stood like that for a minute in the middle of the darkened kitchen, watching her pout at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He would never understand girls. Was she flirting? He rather hoped so, after the episode out on the porch, but wasn't too sure what to do about it. Should he kiss her again? Push her up against the fridge and...well, that thought wasn't going to get him anywhere, and it was making him damned uncomfortable, besides. And...and did best friends really kiss each other? He wouldn't know.

Her brows raised. She tried to look cool and confident, but even in the dim light he could see the blush spread across her cheeks. As she leaned in, he could feel the sweet warmth of her breath hit his face, and he unconsciously hung on a little tighter. "What do you want it to mean?" Her bright eyes searched his, waiting.

He blinked, and swallowed. Why was she putting this on him? Did she think he wanted to - what, date her? Make out with her on the countertop? He blinked again, and she was still watching him. A little crease had formed between her brows, and her mouth had tightened, almost imperceptibly. If he hadn't been holding her so close, he wouldn't have noticed. But the corners of her mouth had tucked inwards, a sign that she was getting frustrated. His own mouth twitched in amusement, but he tried to hide it. Despite the levity of the last few minutes, she was being serious, and the least he could do was give her a straightforward answer. But how do you do that when you aren't even sure of your own feelings? Were inconvenient daydreams in the middle of Euro History and wishing she'd never leave his house when she came over the right ingredients for a good relationship? He'd never want to scare her away (despite all of his initial attempts when he first met her), and if she knew just how much he thought of her, _what_ he thought of her...was that what she wanted to hear? Would it end this...whatever it was? It wasn't like any relationship he'd ever had, inside the family or out. Barring Uncle and Tam, she was the best thing to ever happen to him. He wouldn't know what to do if he lost her.

She was almost done waiting. Her eyes finally dropped, and she turned away. He felt her legs finally begin to loosen, so she could slide down him, but he secured her against him more firmly and moved to sit her on the counter again. She glanced up at him through the veil of hair that had fallen across her eyes, but still didn't lift her chin. "Look, i'm just being a girl, alright? Don't worry about it."

Something in his throat closed a little. She was giving him a way out of an increasingly awkward situation, and a part of him was tempted to take it. But if he let go now, he wasn't sure when he'd get another chance at this. She might think he didn't care about...what she did. The kiss. And after everything Uncle had attempted to pound into his head, all those idioms and sayings about life and experiences and _girls_, it finally clicked. She hadn't asked him what he wanted out of sheer curiosity. Her posture, her tone, her expression - or lack thereof, from what he could see behind her hair - all gave it away. She _wanted_ him to say he cared. That he'd liked it. That he liked _her_. The thought floored him.

It also put everything into a whole new perspective, and suddenly the thoughts that had been crowding his brain the last few minutes came into sharp focus. "Hey," and his voice cracked. He winced a little - _smooth_ - and she raised her head just a fraction. "This..." and he let one hand let go of her thigh so he could run his fingers over the curve of her flushed cheek. Take a deep breath, focus, in, out, just like meditation, let it all go, "this is what I want."

And he closed the gap between them, lowering his head to just brush his mouth against hers. She went very still, her warm lips unmoving beneath his. They remained like this for the longest and shortest seconds of his life, and then her lips parted, just enough to feel her breath mingle with his. Something woke within him then, a fire that ignited low in his belly and spread outward, to his fingertips. He sucked in a sharp breath, and pressed himself against her the best he could, considering their position. Her legs hooked behind him, and squeezed, and slim, callused fingers stole up his chest to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him against her.

And suddenly the still, sweet moment was gone, and everything was friction and hot hands exploring each other. He pried her mouth open further with his own, deepening the kiss. She made a small, wanton noise in the back of her throat, and bit his lip hungrily, sucking on it. He could actually feel his knees start to buckle a little at that, and he had to push her all the way against the cabinets in order to have something to lean on. His hands twisted in her damp shirt, and almost by accident his fingers brushed the soft, flushed skin beneath it. She jerked against him, startled at the sudden contact, but didn't let go of him, continuing her assault on him. When she didn't pull away, he dared to slip the rest of his hand just under the hem of her shirt and skim over her side, squeezing just a little. She made that noise again, and he echoed her, gasping into her mouth when she mirrored his movements. She'd just about made it to his ribs when the light turned on behind them.

"I think if I wasn't blind before this, I would be now."

An indulgent chuckle from Uncle answered Tam. "Come now. Love is a beautiful thing, not something to be disgusted at."

"Yeah, but I think your kind of love doesn't cop a feel in someone else's kitchen at eleven o'clock at night. No offense, Kat."

Neither of them had moved since jerking apart when the light flooded over them. They stared at each other through the short conversation, Kat's cheeks flooding with more color than before, and Zeke could feel his own face ignite. Suddenly Kat's face crumpled, and for one horrible second he thought she had burst into tears, but she was howling with laughter. Her shoulders trembled, and her hands grabbed at the front of his wet shirt so she wouldn't fall off the counter, she was shaking so hard.

"How - how did you know i was c-copping a f-feel?" She could barely talk through the giggles, and Zeke felt himself sliding from one end of the spectrum to the other - on one hand, he knew he was going to throttle Tam the second he had her upstairs and away from the ground, but he also had an insane urge to break down too. Right after he died of embarrassment.

"I didn't; you just told me. I hope it was nothing below the belt."

That just set Kat off again, and this time, Zeke finally joined her.

* * *

hocrap, REVIEW KPLZTHX. I love this scene, and i hope y'all do too. Didn't really know how to end it, though.

I think that Iroh's kind of love WOULD cop a feel in someone's kitchen, but hey.


	8. Lose Control MD

And now for something completely different. Azula is just so much FUN to write. Wouldn't you agree? Set in the same AU as my other modern-day pieces. This is just a little sneak peek into the historical background of my AU, if you pay attention. Oh, and lyrics (c) Evanescence.

I/her father named her Alexandria for the same reason Lionel Luthor named Lex - after Alexander the Great, who by the time he was in his early twenties, had conquered most of the known world and established his empire.

* * *

**FYI:** Alexandria Ashcraft is perfect in almost every way: she's her father's favorite, her degenerate brother's been disowned, and she's going to rule the world someday. So how is it that one worthless boy could create so much discord in her oh-so-wonderful life?

**LOSE CONTROL**

_You don't remember my name;  
__I don't really care.  
__Can we play this game your way;  
can I really lose control?_

Later, when asked, she could never quite pinpoint the exact moment in time when her life began to backslide. When her mother left. When her father chose her over her brother, and took his place by Ignatius' side. When she failed to bring the Avatar's body back, time and time again. When she met the water boy's eyes for the first time. When she was born.

How could being the best at what she did be such a crime? When did it become more burden that boon? It was something that didn't bear thinking about, but she found herself turning the question over in her head more and more often as time went by. Usually she was preoccupied with training, doing her father's bidding, or even on occasion school. The last was mostly a farce, but they had to keep up appearances, didn't they? So her father told her. You must interact with the populace. See what it is that motivates them, search out their fears and weaknesses. _Know your enemy. _At sixteen, she was certain she already knew enough of the world to do what must be done. Wasn't she a princess, born from the fires at the heart of Atlantis? It was her birthright, her destiny to conquer, to rule. Her people had been thwarted once, eons ago, and now it was up to her family to make things right.

She was a prodigy, they told her. She was the most talented, most powerful firebender since the fall of Atlantis. It fell to her to use that power to take control of the world once more, and resurrect their kingdom. So why did the thought of victory no longer please her the way it used to? They were so close; it would be this time, this generation that made the difference, and she would be the one to lead her people to Paradise. But every time her father praised her, every time her former tutors reveled in their unmatched success, something within her was taken away, piece by piece. She was losing herself, losing sight of their goal. And that was something she could not afford. Not this time.

It was all _his _fault. From the moment she laid eyes on him, he had distracted her. She found herself following him with her gaze covertly as she swept by him in the hallway. He was one of the few who didn't back away, that didn't look down when her entourage passed by. He would face her head-on, only moving at the last second to let her through, sketching a mock-bow in the process and throwing out some comment that she supposed was meant to be witty. He was always making other people laugh, she noticed. She couldn't understand why most of the time, but then, she was never close enough to really hear what was going on. She could only catch clips of words and phrases, punctuated by wildly gesticulating arms and an expressive face. It was always interspersed with bursts of laughter from those around them, so she guessed that he must be some sort of comedian. The class clown, as it was called. She didn't have any classes with him, so why should she know? Why should she _care_?

She didn't. Obviously. It wasn't like was anything special. He couldn't even play _sports_. She'd only seen him try once, out on the soccer field after school had let out. That scene alone marked him as an idiot, and, well, a _loser_. Maybe if he pulled stunts like that more often, she'd be able to say that yes, he was a pretty funny guy.

But then she would remember the look on his face as he tried to direct the ball, the evident frustration, the intense concentration, the quiet embarrassment. He reminded her of her brother then, as pathetic as it was. He'd ended up flat on his back after one especially violent kick, missing the ball completely and slipping. It had been almost painful to watch; for a second she'd almost been embarrassed for him, until she remembered that he was a peasant, just another one of the masses that would be caught in the tide when it finally came in. She was hard-pressed to even remember his name most of the time (not that she wasted hours trying to recall it). It happened to be Spencer, but did she really care? Not that much.

So she told herself, every time she saw him with his horde of lackeys out in the courtyard, cutting up and making too much noise. She didn't much care for his voice, familiar as it was. It, too, reminded her of her brother in the way that it cracked every time he raised the volume or laughed, which was most of the time. It seemed she never saw him without hearing him laugh, or shout, or do something that was sure to attract too much attention. Sometimes she would find herself turning towards him when she heard him speak, as if it were she he was calling out to. She wondered why she hadn't cut him down yet, put him in his place once and for all. Him and that scrawny little sister of his. The whole family was pathetic, as far as she was concerned. Why she would bother to even think about it long enough to come to the conclusion, she wasn't sure. It was bothering her more than she cared to admit.

Why. It was the question of the day for her. Why did she pay so much attention to someone so beneath her? (_because he was so repulsive it was actually funny._) Why hadn't she picked him apart yet? (_because she was biding her time; crushing someone was an art, after all, she didn't want to rush it._) Why did his laugh do what it did to her? (_because it was so familiar_.)

It was one thing she couldn't deny; the more time she spent watching and listening, the stronger the feeling got. His voice, even his silhouette against a door frame sent unwelcome prickles down her back, and made her stomach twist. Sad, and a little unnerving, that she could recognize even his shadow. And the feeling was getting stronger by the day. Soon she found herself wishing she had a class with him, and wondering where his locker was. Something to keep track of him with. Because enemies needed keeping an eye on.

But lies can only hold you over for so long. She'd had enough of this, so she decided to do something about it. That night, she went to her two closest instructors and knelt before them, asking them for guidance.

The ancient twins glanced at each other, then back down at their charge, their brightest pupil. They had been expecting something like this; after all, Alexandria was a young woman now, and royalty or not, boys would be boys. And attractive ones...well, they were the worst. So they told her what she should do in order to soothe her conscience, and rid herself of this distracting train of thought. The solution was to embrace it.

Alexandria jerked backward, shocked that they would suggest such a treasonous act. She was above this boy! She was better, she was royalty, she was a _goddess_. Yes, yes, they soothed her. All of this, and more. But have you not found that once you have attained that which you desire, that desire will soon wane, leaving ashes in its wake?

She turned this over in her thoughts. What they said was repellent, but true. Perhaps if she pursued this feeling to the end, it would disappear, as if it had never existed. But still she was not satisfied. How do I go about this conquest?

_Ahhh_, the twins sighed happily. They were happy to share their expertise. The key, they exclaimed, was to not see this as a conquest, but as a _seduction_.

Once more the princess found herself at a loss for words. _Seduction_? It sounded like something from those brainless daytime television shows her nannies used to watch. But would that not imply that she actually_ liked _this boy?

The two chortled. Oh, child. How much you have to learn. We shall give you one last lesson, for it seems that this is something we have neglected to teach you.

So they did, and Alexandria was taught the one crucial lesson every woman must know to survive in this world: how to take what you want, and cut it down to a thing you can use.

_Just once in my life  
__I think it'd be nice__  
Just to lose control, just once  
in the dark._


	9. Voices

Because I'm such a freaking procrastinator.

This is a little iffy. I don't know if a couple of the points brought up in this will actually go down the way it says it will. Also, this thing kinda drops off real suddenly. Just to warn you.

* * *

**FYI:** They failed on the Day of Black Sun, and things are getting desperate, especially after Aang finally reveals that he can no longer enter the Avatar State. Katara realizes she has a decision to make, and it's left up to Zuko to assist her.

**VOICES**

_"We speak in different voices."_

She could still taste the bitter dregs of black tea in the back of her mouth, and she swallowed heavily, trying to relieve herself of the unsettling sense that something wasn't quite right. The self-claimed prophet's words still reverberated in her skull, intertwining with Aang's, like two tiger-hawks dueling in the air, until the voices melded together into one jangling, jarring message. _Two roads, one choice._

_I love you._

_Fire is the answer to your question._

_I've always loved you._

_There are two roads that lie before you -_

_I can't enter the Avatar State, not without Roku - _

_Embrace what you fear._

_Because I can't let go of the one thing that means the most -_

_You hold the world in the palms of your hands._

_It's you. I can't stop loving you._

_Are you strong enough to face it?_

No. But I have to try. For Aang. For us all.

So she took another step, and another, and then momentum was carrying her towards the end of the hallway, towards his room. She couldn't stop now. Could she? Her hand was on the wall, she was knocking on the frame -

A pause. "Yeah?" Polite, a little stilted, like he still didn't really grasp the concept of civility with her.

She let herself be steadied by the ancient stone that she leaned on. She'd rehearsed the words over and over in her head, trying to come up with something that wasn't too demanding, that wasn't too harsh and too not her. She'd been so much of both, lately, and it tasted a bit like the tea she forced herself to imbibe every morning. "Can...um, I come in?"

Another pause, this one not quite so long. "Of course." He stepped away from the window; he had turned to face her as soon as her heard her steps come to a halt in front of his door - what had he been doing, anyway? - and shifted closer to the door, keeping himself between her and the rest of his room.

She took the one step that left her just inside the doorway, and felt something in the air tighten. Was it him, or her? Holding her breath for just a moment, she pushed aside the prophet's insidious voice and ignored the feelings that whispered of change, of choices already made and patterns shifting. She wet her lips, trying to keep herself balanced without the cool stone beneath her hands. "I need to talk to you. Um." Her eyes jumped from feature to feature, trying to focus, but failing. She never quite made it to his eyes.

"Alright...." His arms uncrossed, and dropped to surreptitiously wipe his palms down his thighs. He waited patiently, seemingly at ease in his own space. Where does he get off being so relaxed? She thought in irritation, then pushed the irrational feeling back.

One last deep breath, and suddenly her coherent narrative was gone, like it had evaporated and she was left with a watermark in her brain. "When Toph and I went into the village we, - there was a soothsayer. Now, I've met the real deal, and this woman...I mean, and - er. Ok, um..." She saw his lone brow raise at the word soothsayer, and she fumbled, backtracking abruptly. "Do you know that the major percent of a person's body is made up of water?" She blurted.

He blinked.

"No? Ok, well i'm a Waterbender (and a soupbender, and a mudbender, and...other stuff), so I can do that, too. I can control the blood in a person's body."

She swore he went a shade lighter. This wasn't going well. "I'm not threatening you! Believe me, if I thought I needed to repeat myself, I would have done it already." More familiar territory here. She carried on. "Look, there's a woman here in the Fire Nation that's a Bloodbending master" (this time she _saw_ him flinch) "and we failed on the Day of Black Sun. I made a promise to myself," here she felt herself get a little shaky, and suddenly there was a bloated moon above her, and Hama's blood sung in her veins as if it were her own, "to never, ever use it again. But," and she stepped a little closer, though she didn't realize it, "sometimes...sometimes we've got to make sacrifices. We have to let go of what we know, and face what we're afraid of."

She hadn't meant to say that. She didn't want him to understand her, didn't want him to empathize. But didn't he already? She hated the thought, but through every insult, every barb and every threat, she could feel the fledgling tatters of their old connection reverberate. She didn't want him to, but she knew that he, maybe more than anyone else, would know what it was like to want something so desperately, and so futilely. To take a leap into the unknown, and wonder if maybe it _wasn't _worth it. She found herself meeting his eyes unexpectedly, and she saw the same understanding there that she had so many months ago.

Slowly, as if he didn't know he was doing it, he nodded. Continue. "There's something I need to do. Aang..." and here her voice broke fully, and those eyes flickered, "...well, you heard, I guess, just like everyone else. His seventh chakra is blocked, and it's my fault -" and the young man jerked upright, eyes snapping.

"How can you say that? Did you ask him to love you? To want to be with you, to protect you? That's his decision - " and he almost said her name, but he never had before, and he didn't start now, "and it's not your place to take that from him."

She went still. The room dropped several degrees without her realizing it, and she found herself with words, sharpened to a killing edge with fear and denial, falling from her lips. "I don't think I'd be talking about who's place is who's around here, Zuko."

* * *

Song quote is from Saosin's "Voices."


End file.
